


Silent Mary

by lahijadelmar



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingerfucking, Forbidden Love, Hair-pulling, Lost Love, Making Love, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 01:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10478634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahijadelmar/pseuds/lahijadelmar
Summary: For as dedicated to eradicating them as Captain Armando Salazar seems to be, it would maybe seem strange the greatest love of his life was a pirate. Then again, they two were alike in that Mary Douglas took no prisoners in love or war. Sort of a functions as a prequel to the impending movie, based on what little knowledge I can ascertain from trailers and the interwebs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This movie is far from being out yet, but dammit I am in love with Captain Salazar. He has already claimed my heart as surely as Norrington did all those years ago. I wanted to write about him (ideally a situation in which he was fucking someone silly, because. WELL.) and then this dwindled into feelings about a lost love and a protective ship. TO NOTE: I am not a native Spanish speaker. I've been determined to learn for many years and I've done okay, but I do not claim to have written flawlessly any of the Spanish phrases used here. Please feel free to correct if there are any glaring mistakes so I can edit the text as needed. ALSO, I have not put in translations to the text because I am lazy and google translate is a thing as are context clues. Apart from all of that, I hope you enjoy this extremely premature piece.

It was in between silence and stars that she would come to him, slip past the weak points of the watch and into his stateroom. He would always anticipate her when they made port. Though their timing didn’t  _ always _ align, he would wait nonetheless as most of the crew took their leave to dry land. Oftentimes he did not sleep at all for fear that she would catch him thus and decide it not worth her time. She was flighty like that, but what else could be expected of a  _ pirate _ ? 

 

He had heard tell long ago of the women that terrorized the oceans. As a boy, he envisioned snake-tongued, sharp-toothed, blood thirsty harpies that had never once felt nor desired any stirrings of affection. That had been a misguided assumption. When he first caught sight of the fair, green-eyed Mary Douglas, hanging from the shrouds, bearing a rapier as gleaming as her calculating smile, he whispered in awe, “ _ La Sirena…! _ ” 

 

That was a correct assessment. When Mary had been thwarted in killing him and destroying his legacy, she instead settled for taking his heart and soul. It was through this that Armando found he was a  _ weak _ man, undeserving of his post and the assignment given to him. He could tell himself time and time again that he would kill her next he saw her, rid himself and the rest of the world of yet another parasite, but he could not.  _ Damn _ his hands, they wanted only to hold her!

 

The last time he was with her they were moored in a port of Hispaniola. How she had gotten to him, he didn’t know. There was no sign of her ship- understandable, as this particular port wasn’t friendly to her kind. She picked the lock of his door and slipped into his stateroom like a spectre, a sorceress. He sometimes wondered if she  _ wasn’t _ some matter of supernatural being for how easily she could could keep his honor at bay. 

 

“Such a gentleman to keep awake for his lady,”  she praised, her Irish intonation more of a purr in these moments than the sharp yell often heard aboard her ship. “Not terribly long, I hope?”

 

Her words lacked any real hint of concern, moreover a teasing hope that he’d admit it had been hours past his usual time of retirement. She didn’t await a reply before pushing his papers aside and straddling the desk just before him where he sat. Her tattered skirts and leathers fell over her shapely pale legs and he found himself caressing her thighs without any restraint; he had none when she was present. 

 

“It  _ has _ been terribly long, hasn’t it?” she whispered, pulling free his cravat once he stood up and pressed himself against her. “My dear, if you would only make port more often-” 

 

“ _ Cállate ya _ …” 

 

A quiet, but firm command as he tugged free the binds of her bodice. Mary was never known for her reticence, but Armando would not have this moment in time bogged down and delayed with idle chat. He rarely had a use for it in most occasions- in this, he wished it  _ gone _ completely. Blessedly, she was keen to oblige him and she smiled into their kiss before he continued to disrobe her. 

This was always how it had to be. She had suggested before dancing for him, disrobing tantalizingly like a harem girl, but he refused everything to allow himself the honor. Every revelation of her deceptively warm, snow white skin was a gift and he’d rediscover it this night on the hard surface of his desk. Each item of clothing was removed slowly, each inch of skin was rewarded with tender kisses and possessive bites, sucked bruises (how he loved marking her porcelain skin with blossoms of dark violet!). 

 

Her first cry of the night was when he rolled her breasts in his hands, laid his weight against her to kiss and suck bruises to them as well. Time had taught him where and how to pay attention to make her fall apart. That was  _ his _ victory. 

 

With her bare and vulnerable before him now he knelt between her legs, placed either knee on his shoulders and pressed a lingering kiss on the inner join of her thigh in suggestion of what would come next. Of course, she was well versed in what would come of a man’s head between her thighs, but she obliged him with a shiver in response that made her entire body tremble. 

 

He claimed her with fingers pressed deep inside, prodding a secret reserve of pleasure with increasing intensity while his tongue and mouth drew patterns on that embedded pearl that would lead to every woman’s satisfaction. He  _ so _ adored the many hidden treasures of a woman’s body and the adventure that was discovering them. 

 

She cried out for a second time when she came undone at the intricate attentions of his mouth and hands. He seized her buttocks and held fast as she rolled through the height of her pleasure. He craved her so direly now, the extent of his need pressing insistently against the rough fabric of his trousers. His self control persevered in this respect, at least, gentleman enough to let her subside before pushing onward. 

 

When she recovered, she giggled, sat up and invited herself to undo the buttons of his vest, all the while nuzzling and pressing kisses to his neck. He would have allowed this to continue if not for how desperate he had become in the throes of their activity. He pressed her close again to his chest, this time with much more force, and whispered a sharp, “ _ Te deseo tanto _ …” into her ear before biting the lobe. She surely felt the hardened length of him pressing itself against her, still confined in the suffocating fabric. 

 

“Do you? I couldn’t tell…” she joked, though her voice was thick with the haze of lust. It drove him mad. 

 

A more delicate woman, perhaps, would have objected to being flipped over so quickly, to having his hand wrapped around the slope of her throat as he released his need from the confines of far-too-stiff fabric and rubbed his length into the silken warmth of her sex. She instead shrieked out a laugh, then a telling hiss at the feeling of what yearned to be inside her. 

 

Mary peered over her shoulder, those sharp emerald eyes burning into his soul. 

“Don’t keep it too long, love…” she beckoned. 

 

“ **¡** Hechicera!” he cursed, though the soft break in his voice spoke of what she did to him. “ **¡** Tentadora!”  

 

He could keep it no longer, even as he was still as good as dressed and she was completely bare. He wrapped a handful of her fire red hair around his hand, clutched it in his fist and pulled her head back as he sank deep within her. Her back arched concave before him, her hips pressed into his and the very sight and feel of it all was so overwhelming a cry was wrought from him despite himself. He did his very best to be in control in these moments with her, never wishing for her to know she had gotten the best of him. 

 

But perhaps that was a foregone conclusion. 

 

She cackled again, triumphant. In response, he smacked the thick of her bottom with his open palm, even as he knew this was the farthest thing from punishment for her. In all honesty, he would not have wished her to be anything but the petulant, taunting succubus that she was. 

 

At a loss to do anything else, he granted them what they both hungered for as he began moving within her in hard, slow, sure strokes. It wasn’t entirely what she wanted. Hard, yes- slow, no. She whined and moved her hips back against him, faster, in protest. He had option to ‘punish’ her again, of course, but elected instead to bring her up against him, back to chest. Into her mouth he whispered, “ Ten paciencía…” in an as of yet untapped reserve of gentle affection. She gasped out a breath of disbelief, the first time he had truly caught her off guard. 

 

It was in that brief moment that his heart overruled his better judgment and decided that  _ this _ time he would not fuck her.  _ This _ time he would make love to her. 

 

He ran his hands down her sides, worshipped her form in the soft and yet rough caresses of calloused, sailor’s hands. He marked trails of kisses down the slope of her neck, across her shoulders and jaw with any declaration of love that came to him; ‘ _ eres mi vida’ _ , ‘ _ no puedo vivir sin ti’ _

 

In every moment together prior to this, it was a battle of who could overcome whom. Now, as their hands met and their fingers laced together, they were finally joined as one. The love he had been unsuccessfully keeping at bay burst forth and he told her very clearly as they reached completion together, “I love you…! I love you…! Mi amor, mi vida…” 

 

Hours later they lay together in his bed, the first light of sunrise beginning to pour over them from the porthole window. Something had changed between them, and in  _ him _ as well. His heart had never minded that she was a pirate and now, after many inner-battles, his mind agreed. 

 

“Marry me,” he suggested with little room for debate, nuzzling into her shoulder, rubbing his thumb over her worn knuckles. 

 

She scoffed out a laugh of disbelief, though her eyes betrayed a sense of awe that he would even consider it. 

 

“A fine wife I’d make for you. What will you tell them all when you take me back to Valencia? If you parade in with a pirate that hasn’t been doomed to the gallows that’ll be your post- gone.” 

 

“I don’t care what people will think,” he argued, though they both knew this was seldom true. “Let me take you away from this life. I can give you more.” 

 

“Who said I wanted out?” She was growing defensive. “If you think I am suited to parading about your estate all day in brocade, bearing you brat after brat until it kills me…!” 

 

She rose from the sheets, a quiver in her voice that spoke of tears she wouldn’t show him, and began to get dressed. He could have been angry that she would make fun of his honest desires, but instead he felt desperate. He grabbed for her hand. 

 

“Please. Please,  _ mi amor _ …” He kissed her palm and the tips of her fingers. “If nothing changes there will come a day when we will meet in battle again. One of us will die. I spared you once, I cannot do it again.” 

 

She looked to him, her eyes wet and full of remorse. He had never seen her so raw. 

 

“It is my dream to die on the sea...not in childbirth after living a sedentary life, always waiting for your return. I can be no wife to you, Armando...damn it all, though I wish I could…!” 

 

He understood then, though it pained him. The very reasons he loved her were the very reasons Mary Douglas could never be his. 

 

* * *

 

The day finally came as he knew it would, one he dreaded more than any other. Her ship faced off against his fleet and fought admirably, but it was not in their orders to take prisoners, no matter how formidable the opponent. They were to blast her, her ship and crew to pieces just as they had with every other parasite of her kind. 

 

“ **¡** A su orden, Capitán!”

 

He met her sharp green eyes across the water for the last time. She smiled and nodded to him, confident that this was her wish. That was a blessing, as this could only end one way. 

 

He gave the command, though the words and the blasting of the cannons dulled to a horrible roar in his ears and she and her ship lit up in flames. He thought, perhaps, he heard her cry out one last time with that laugh of satisfaction that made his heart swell. 

 

And then, forever, Mary was silent.

 

* * *

 

When he’d had the new ship renamed in Mary’s honor, Armando assumed that would be the extent of her influence. For many years, this was true. It wasn’t until his death and rebirth, his crew and ship following suit, that he realized something had certainly changed in his  _ Silent Mary _ . Wreck though she may have been, there was a presence about her that hadn’t been there before. 

 

She had become protective, vicious, determined,  _ loyal _ . It was only he that realized his beloved Mary Douglas had taken on a form that would serve him through this purgatory to his intended purpose. 

 

“Perhaps it is a blessing that we two should be consumed in fire…” he would tell her. “No earthly marriage could compare to this, an eternity together on the seas. Mi amor. Mi  _ vida _ !” 

  
The  _ Silent Mary _ would break her vow of silence and creak and sway in agreement. 


End file.
